


Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty

by Berryberrynoizy



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dark Princess Oswald, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:18:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15191654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berryberrynoizy/pseuds/Berryberrynoizy
Summary: ‘‘They’ll be expecting Penguin in his expensive-looking tailored suits, not a dark princess''.  Are all of Riddler's plans created to toy with Oswald?





	Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulging fic I dedicate to Heyesc and Moyu-youbi. Their help is incredibly important to me. 
> 
> I have the luck to know Amethystawakening, and she was kind enough to let me refer to one of her fics I enjoyed, On the job. You should go read it before reading mine.

''Come again ?'', Oswald says, his voice high pitched, mouth hanging down in disbelief. 

‘‘They’ll be expecting Penguin in his expensive-looking tailored suits, not a dark princess,'' Edward replies, his tone matter-of-fact. ''It's a perfect plan''. He punctuates his last words with his hands, joining his thumb and his index finger in the move that was becoming his signature. 

Oswald blinks many times quickly, like it could help him make more sense of the suggestion. It doesn't. He paces around in the living room, his eyes blind to the light filtering in by through the stained glass window. His mind focuses solely on the crazy suggestion of his friend.  
''So,'' Oswald begins, ''you expect me to wear a dress to tomorrow's ball ?'' 

''And a wig. Do you want it in black or do you want to try a new hair color?'' Edward stops for a second, studying Oswald's face. He pays no attention to the wide-open eyes and the frozen, exaggerated smile. 

''I think blonde could suit you.'' 

Oswald closes his eyes and mouth for a moment. His lips still stretch in an incredulous smile. He takes a long deep breath, his hand pressing his cane firmly to the ground. 

Feeling more in control, he says: ''No, friend. That is not going to happen.'' 

''Not only it is going to happen, Oswald'', Edward says in the same tone he uses for calming down Oswald's angry outbursts. With a quick look at his wrist he continues: ''The tailor is about to arrive any minute now.'' 

*** 

''Do you need any help, Oswald ?'', Edward asks. Oswald hides behind the carved ebony folding screen for a much longer time he should have needed to dress. No answer comes. 

''I tried to find dresses fitting your tastes,'' Ed starts, trying to sneak a glance behind, only to find Oswald still wearing his suit, save for the discarded jacket. 

''Because, you know, my dresses' tastes are quite specific,'' Oswald interrupts. ''So specific none exist.'' 

Ed clicks his tongue. 

''Oswald, don't be like that. This is a PERFECT plan, and I found some PERFECT dresses for you to try.'' 

Overwhelming doubt written on his face, Oswald rubs his temple with one hand, other one resting on his cane. ''You do realize this whole thing is insane, right? Me wearing a dress, you choosing dresses for me'', he states, arm stretched in front of the three carefully displayed pieces. ''If I were not mindful of your feelings, I'd even ask you when you acquired a fashion taste.'' 

''Someone taught me looks could be a weapon," Ed tries, admiration in his voice to flatter Oswald's ego. ''With a proper incentive, you know I'll learn about anything.''

Oswald rolls his eyes, unaffected by the forced sweetness. 

''Pray tell what was the incentive about ball dresses for me ?''

Ed swallows a forming chuckle, turning around to look at his suggested ballwear. Avoiding the question, he picks the first one on the left, studying the bodice carefully. A forgotten thread is sticking out, almost unnoticeable. 

''Not that one,'' Ed sighs. 

''All white. It looks like a wedding dress to me,'' Oswald declares calmly, taking the piece from Ed's hand. ''Wait, Ed, this is a wedding dress.''

Edward feigns innocence too dramatically for anyone not to notice. 

''You are making fun of me, right ?''

''You wear the finest clothes in Gotham, Oswald. It turns out the finest women clothes in Gotham are wedding dresses.''

''I am not wearing a wedding dress, friend. Cancel the whole thing.''

''No, you don't. I told you it was a perfect plan. You trust me, Oswald. Trust me this time.''

Trust is hard to find in Gotham. Oswald trusts Ed's with his life and would give his for Ed's without the faintest trace of regret. Maybe the ice had affected Ed's better judgment, explaining why he chooses to stay at his side and why he thinks dressing Oswald as a dark princess is the perfect plan for executing a complicated jewel heist.

Unwilling to dwell on self-doubts, Oswald blinks hard and forces a smile, putting the dress back on the rack.

''Those are not white, aren't they? So, not wedding dresses ?''

''No wedding dresses for those two,'' Ed replies with a grin, grabbing a gown. ''You turned down the gorgeous option. Let's try elegance.''

''Gorgeous, elegance... What is the third theme? Beauty ?'', Oswald asks, curiosity winning over his reserve. 

Ed shakes his head. 

''Try again.''

''Hmm...'', Oswald thinks how he would describe the fashionable style of the ladies he knew. Fish in mind, he supposes: ''Stylish ?''

''Wrong again.''

Oswald shrugs, raising his shoulder and hand and forcing his lips together. 

''Classic? Refined ?''

''I can hide in the eyes, the smile or the voice. Once you...''

''Ed.''

''Seduction. The answer is seduction.''

Oswald frowns. ''So, seductive?''

''Ta-da ! You are correct.''

Ed is making fun of him. It is obvious now. There is no alternative.

''Gorgeous, seductive and you said elegance, right? What's the catch  
with that one ?''

''Nothing. To be honest, this one made me think of you. All of them are beautiful, but 'Elegance' is made for you. Look.''

Oswald turns to look at his reflection. His cheeks catch on fire when Ed's arms almost embrace him as he holds a black, long gown in front of Oswald and presses it against him. Ed's eyes become softer when their gaze meet in the mirror: ''Perfect for the sovereign of Gotham.''

Edward leans in, his chest against Oswald's back. Oswald's heartbeat pounds so hard he is sure Ed can feel it. 

''Try it.''

****

With many, many words, Edward finally convinces Oswald to wear everything he had prepared: the gown, the corset, the stockings, the wedge shoes. Heels would have been better fashion-wise, but Oswald 's bad leg could probably not bear it. 

Blushing, Oswald had refused Edward's help with the undergarments. A regal black handmade lace trim bordered the black overbust corset, steel digging into his side, laced too tight. His hand followed the silk top to bottom, discovering a little embroidery on his hips. A small purple umbrella. A nice gesture, although it feels dangerous to Oswald.

He fights with his back seam nylon stocking when Ed appears, seemingly focused on something in his mind. Oswald instinctively tries to hide behind his arms. A futile effort.

''I thought you'd need help with corset,'' Ed plainly states. ''I am sorry, Oswald. I did not think to help you with the back lacing earlier.''

He looks at Oswald's legs before adding: ''And the stockings, too. The back seam makes it tricky, I suppose.''

Oswald breathes deeply with a forced smile.

''I am a little busy at the moment. Can you... leave me alone for a while? I can dress myself, Ed.''

He swears in his head as he winces in pain trying to get the stockings straight at his ankle. 

''Please, allow me.''

Ed kneels on the floor to Oswald's left. Wrapping a hand around Oswald's ankle, he smoothes his palm up over Oswald's right leg's calf, running his index and middle fingers along the seam. A half-suppressed gasp interrupts his reverie of the perfect line. Stuttering, Oswald offers an explanation: “I did… I did not think you would… touch… apply yourself so closely to the task. It is fine. No one is going to see them, Ed. Is it that important to make them run straight ?”

''Yes, it is.''

Edward notices the shallowness of Oswald's breath. If he sees Oswald's discomfort and shyness, he makes no sign of it. 

''As I thought,'' Ed says, finishing straightening up the stockings, inventing a new way to torture Oswald as he pushes his finger between the corset and Oswald's back, ''The corset it too tightly laced. You should be able to breathe normally.''

There is no way Oswald could breathe normally when Ed turns around him, looking at every curve formed by the underwear, his hands following. 

Oswald escapes his touch, moving away. Ed moves forward, already putting his hand on him. Oswald slaps it the way you'd punish a child.

''I'm fine, Ed. Now, let me change alone.'' 

''We need to work on the lacing in your back.''

Oswald offers him a forced smile to hide his embarrassment. He has to make Ed leave now before he could notice the subtle evidence in Oswald's expanded irises and fastened breathing.

''No, I am perfectly okay right now.''

Focused on the undergarments until now, Edward had failed to notice the black nail polish adorning Oswald's fingers, until Oswald pushes him away, his back still facing Ed. His eyes following the path of the movement, he looks down at the manicured hand which has half-landed on his belt.

Oswald played with nail polish sometimes, so the sight was not entirely novel. However, it was the first time his hand was so... close, allowing Ed to feel a faint ghosting sensation. 

Time to retreat.

Ed clears his throat in the hope Oswald will not look back at him. ''I am sorry. Tell me when you will need my help for the gown bodice. ''

Left alone, Oswald rests his forehead on the mirror. He puts a hand on his mouth to smother an exhalation of relief. The constriction around his chest and the shallowness of his breath leave him light-headed. 

The dress now. 

Without moving, he looks at his reflection. He barely swallows a self-deriding snicker. How is it possible for someone like him, who killed numerous people, who lied and begged so often to save his life, to feel like this challenge was impossible to bear? 

Oswald unhooks the hidden fasteners. He'll need help to close the bodice on him. Did Ed pick these pieces of purpose? It was becoming very annoying, and his patience runs thin. 

However, even with the back open but for the first fastener, not fastened in the proper hook, Oswald cannot help but be pleased with his reflection. 

Light plays on the rich shot silk, changing the black fabric to a dark yet luminous shade of purple. Velveteen accents, used sparingly, bring out a refined, mature feeling to the boatneck bodice and bustle skirt he is not quite able to bow in place. 

Ed has been right: that piece was worthy of his attention. 

Maybe, just _maybe_ , the result could be nice.


End file.
